


You are the Star (of my liquid dreams)

by annonna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Ben Solo, Business Trip, Communication kink, Crack Treated Seriously, Dom/sub Undertones, Domme!Rey vibes, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Humiliation kink, JOHN WICK SPOILERS, Loss of Virginity, No Pregnancy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe to read if you are triggered by pregnancy, Smut, Songfic, Submissive Ben Solo, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Ben Solo, Wet Dream, a laughing together kink?, catastrophizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annonna/pseuds/annonna
Summary: Faintly he could hear Dr. Kanata reminding him to breathe, to be mindful of his thoughts.Fuck you,his mind fired back. None of that meant anything right now. Not when he had fucked up this bad. There was no coming back from this. Skywalker Law met Solo Luck and everything had gone nuclear.Ben and Rey are on a business trip when Ben has a wet dream.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 41
Kudos: 151
Collections: ReylOlds





	1. she's a morpherotic dream from a magazine

**Author's Note:**

> ever mess around and write an O-Town songfic?

It all started with the stupid aisle seat. She had said, “If I don’t have an aisle seat, I’m going to personally blame you, Solo,” in _that_ tone. The one that walked between joke and sincerity that he could never quite gauge. Apparently, that time had been a joke, because when he took the middle seat on the plane, she pitched a very public fit. 

“No, just take the aisle,” she hissed. “I’m fine _,_ Solo. It’ll be fine.”

And yeah, Sands _would_ have been fine in the middle seat. 

And also, yeah, looking back, he _should_ have just moved. 

He certainly would have come off as less of an asshole to the rest of the passengers. And her.

But instead he sat like a stubborn jackass, his feet spread uncomfortably wide to deal with the lack of legroom, glaring dead ahead.

It was easy to say that was where it all started. 

But that was only where it had started today. And it was only getting worse.

Of all the people, why did she have to be the project lead? If it were Hux, or even Phasma… anyone but Rey Sands.

Because he knew imminent disaster was on the horizon. As a child, Ben had worked out the Skywalker Law: everything can and certainly _will_ go wrong, no matter how you plan it. Even still, he had done heaps of preparation for spending this much time around Sands. Meditations, ASMR podcasts, handfuls of CBD gummies… nothing was fucking working. They couldn’t talk without fighting. 

And between the fight about who would be putting the taxi ride on whose company credit card, and then the fuss about the luggage, Ben knew the Law was in full swing.

He just didn’t respect how much further the pendulum was about to swing.

Because this had to be illegal. At the very least, there was definitely an HR bylaw forbidding this. Just cosmically, it had to be considered bad form to burn a pissant this long with a magnifying glass. Listening to the clerk explain to Sands, he felt his stomach falling away, because she was saying the hotel assigned them one room. With a queen sized bed. Not even a king, or even a suite, with a couch. A teeny, tiny queen room.

Gripping his roll-on, he stepped up to the counter in front of Sands. “There’s nothing else?” he demanded. “A twin room or any suites?”

Clearly not thrilled with his splash of anger, the woman gave him an unimpressed shake of her head. “As I said to your _colleague_ ,” she emphasized Sands as if Ben had forgotten _who_ he had shouldered past, “you could try another hotel, but the conference has everything booked up solid.” 

Raking his hand through his hair, he shook his head before snatching the keys and stalking off to the elevators _._ The walk upstairs was deadly silent, and opening the door to the room felt like entering a future crime scene. Sands was already bounding in, making it cozy, nattering on about how they could make it work and it would all be fine. Except Ben knew better. 

Between Skywalker Law and Solo Luck and the best he could hope for tonight was the Yellowstone Caldera would finally blow. At least that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout and consequences. 

All his mind could think of were the possible ways this was going to go wrong, until he caught some of chattering.

“—I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, anyw— ”

“No,” Ben interrupted, gaze finally looking up. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

Sands stopped speaking, her gaze flickering from confusion to condescension. As she raised a sharp eyebrow he felt her gaze wandering over his body, the skepticism in her eyes prickling his nerves. An uncomfortable shiver ran down his back. “I do yoga, you do cross fit. Trust me,” she said, folding her arms, “I’m better off on the floor than you.”

That was not that tact he had expected and he didn’t know how to argue back. He never knew how to stand up to it. “That’s not — it’s the right thi—”

Her derisive snort cut across him and he all but visibly flinched. “It’s _not_ the right thing to do.” Disdain felt slathered into the meat of the words. “It’s the bullshit chivalric thing to do, something I’ve grown out of.”

His teeth ground together as he scowled at her, trying to out-logic her.

“See, you can’t even disagree,” she said flippantly before turning to her luggage. “I’ll be fine, I’ll don’t mi….”

Her voice failed as Ben dropped to the floor.

“What are you doing?” She looked downright alarmed.

“Getting the floor ready,” he grumped, pulling his bag into his lap to take out his pajamas. “Could you toss me a pillow?”

Sands gaped at him, making Ben’s ears flush. Honestly, this wasn’t even the strangest way he had ended an argument with her. That went to the time he simply walked off mid sentence, unable to tolerate anymore of her opinions on his coffee preferences.

She took so long reacting that Ben went back to his bag, picking through it until a pillow hit him on the side of his head, knocking his glasses loose. _Fucking child,_ he snapped in his head, refusing to rise to her bait. Instead he placed the pillow behind him on the floor, before aggressively readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

He could hear her moving around on the bed before she finally said, “You’re ridiculous,” and again in _that_ tone. The one somewhere between teasing and mocking. The one he could never tell if she was being funny or just cruel.

There were several minutes of tense, passive-aggressive noise-making, before a blanket landed half unfolded all over him. 

Suddenly the damn dark, Ben’s arms flailed to find the edges of the covers. He could hear Sands giggling at him as he yanked and tugged his way out, coming up to his knees with a growl, finger pointed in rabid frustration, about to scream. 

Scream in Sands’s laughing face, which was rapidly blanching into terror.

Ben froze, his body trapped in its aggressive posture. He had gone and scared her. He had missed that all of this was just a fucking _joke_ to her. That _he_ had clearly been just a joke to her until about three seconds ago. 

Furious at her and at himself, Ben threw the bedclothes down, grabbing his pajamas as he stalked to the bathroom. 

As soon as the door was locked behind him, it was like he was paralyzed against it. It was only 8:30. Eight-fucking- _thirty_. How the fuck was he supposed to survive another eighteen hours of this? Could he manage not to be the most awkward fuck-up in the galaxy until a normal bedtime? Going to bed now was his first option, but between all the anxiety and the fact that it was so goddamn early, it was not only impossible, but it would look so fucking _weird._

_“And that’s the latest on the weather, join —”_

Ben jumped a foot in the air, shocked by the blaring television in the other room. From the other side of the door, he heard a _‘shit!’_ and then the volume decreasing. 

Pushing off the door, he paced the bathroom, undoing his button up as he went. Pulling his undershirt off, he pulled on a cotton shirt, then set to work righting his hair. He had been told on multiple occasions it was his best feature because it hid his worst: Dumbo ears. He had never been so meticulous about it before she started working there. 

Six months ago, he was known as the quiet one. Now he was known as the fucking weird one, because he couldn’t keep his shit together. And it wasn’t just around her either. Because once people noticed him, started paying attention to him, the only way he could go was down. His social skills were pathetic, his small talk appalling, his communication absurd. And that was how his diplomat mother had described him. 

He was just a developer. Why did he even have to go on go-lives? 

The only part of himself Ben felt he had any control over was presentation. It was why he was a gymrat and had a half-dozen different pomades for his hair. It was why he always trialed glasses before he bought them. If he couldn’t communicate like a normal human being, might at least show he looked like one. 

Tying his dark flannel pajama pants together, he sighed. It had meant to be steadying, but failed completely. Somehow he felt even dizzier at the prospect of making a bigger fool out of himself. Hunching over the sink, he sighed. There was just no way this was going to work. He was not cool or smooth or anything else romantic. Just tall, weird, and pissy. Glaring at his reflection, he shook his head. _Admit defeat_ , he told himself. _Just accept it. It’ll be easier._ With one last heavy sigh, he stood, exiting the bathroom.

She had taken over the bed, sitting in the center, flicking through the channels. “Nothing good on,” she grumbled. 

“I still have some work to do,” Ben muttered back, pulling out his laptop. The room was so small it didn’t even have a damn desk. Moving to sit on the ground, he was halfway down when Sands said, “You could just sit on the bed.” 

She was already shuffling over to make space as he flushed dully. There was no good excuse not to — he couldn’t play the chivalric card here. He was trapped. Swallowing hard, he nodded. Except it felt like he had forgotten how to sit in the last thirty seconds. Slowly he folded in half, his spine staying ramrod straight as he sat with his back to her.

The posture was unwieldy. He could feel how strange he looked. It was calling more attention to him than just sitting on the bed would. Grimacing, he moved back against the headboard, laptop on his stretched out legs. Hunching his shoulders in a determined, periphery-removing scowl, he started on his emails.

But it wasn’t enough to stop all the little details of _her_. They were close enough that he could feel the heat of her body, the heat of where she had been sitting a moment ago. She had a faint scent of perfume; nothing as busy as floral, but more clean, mature. 

The neutral sounds of Rey Sands ricocheted and clanged around his head. Her soft breathing, the brush of her arm on the stiff cotton of the bedsheets, the swallows in her throat. Chewing the inside of his lip, he pulled up Hux’s email chain, setting to work on ignoring her as hard as he could. Each noise compounded in his head, catching more jagged emotional flak as she drove him crazy, making him hammer his keys. 

“Get some bad news?”

The question jolted him out of his response to Hux. Pushing his glasses up his nose, Ben shook his head at her, a little bewildered. “Why?”

Her mouth twisted wryly, eyes going between him and his laptop. “Because you’re beating on that keyboard like it murdered your puppy.”

Unconsciously his hands balled into fists, embarrassment gushing through him. 

“Speaking of murdered puppies…” she started, her voice doing some _heavy_ stretching in her awkward segue, “...do you like John Wick?” 

Shaking his head out as he tried to understand why she was asking, he finally looked at her. “What?”

“John Wick,” she repeated. Her gaze was on the television again. “It’s on after this episode. I love it, but if you don’t, I can change it.”

It took an unnatural amount of time for him to reply, the sense that this was their only conversation so far without a fight nagging at him. “I like John Wick, yeah.” 

“Cool,” she said, putting the remote down and moving under the covers to snuggle into a comfortable position.

Small talk...was this what it was?

Could it be called “small” talk if they were in the same bed? Because it felt enormous and there was so much of it. And it felt so painfully intimate, watching how Sands got comfortable. To watch her struggle to make one pillow enough before finally grabbing a second one. It seemed very particular, like a ritual she had for finding her proper position. In the end she had one arm tucked under a pillow, another tucked up behind it to prop her neck up a bit, as she lay on her side, facing him, when she wasn’t looking at the television.

Which was never. But it made Ben acutely self-conscious. 

Unfortunately, there was only so much work to be done. After a half-hour, he was wishing the emails would multiply, reproduce, anything, to give him something to do. Their no-argument streak was doomed if he ran out of work — it was Skywalker Law and Solo Luck, he would fuck it up.

Plus he didn’t want to be on the floor. The bed wasn’t the greatest, but the floor was the floor.

With nothing left to do, Ben shut the laptop and started to roll off the bed when Sands said, “You can sit up here, while we finish the movie.”

He blinked, rather surprised at the offer after his weird behavior earlier. “Are you trying to trick me into falling asleep on the bed?” Wincing internally, it had come out more as a retort than a joke, he put his laptop bag back.

“Maybe,” she confessed with a shrug. “But still, it’s just a movie. And there’s nowhere else to sit. It’s fine.” 

Her exasperation was somehow both patient and tired, shepherding him into resignation. Slipping sideways, he put his laptop away before turning to fix his pillow and realizing the headboard situation was going to be a problem. Without a laptop to stoop over, he wanted to lean back. Except the frame was shaped with a curve that only reached half his neck. Trying a pillow behind his neck, it was no use. It was just going to be uncomfortable.

After his third annoyed sigh, Sands looked up at him. “You could just come down to this level.” Something about her tone was condescending, making him bristle. 

“Honestly, it’s much more comfortable.”

 _Of course it is_ , he thought angrily, as if the situation was all her fault. She was talking so casually about sharing a _bed_. He couldn’t fathom it. 

Slowly he moved down, unable to get much further than his chest without his feet dangling over the edge. 

“Shit, you are so _tall_ ,” she wondered aloud.

“Yes,” Ben said flatly. “So I’ve been told.” Bending his knees inwards, he scrunched down on his side so that he was facing her. When he wasn’t watching Keanu Reeves. Who he was not nearly as interested in. At least he was above the covers while she was under them. He could pretend that this was still proper and appropriate.

Ben really was trying his damnedest to not pay attention to her. But her details were attacking him again, and they were so loud. Some of the violence made her fidget, and she would bite into her thumbnail. She licked her lips as they curved upwards before she laughed. And every, single breath she took wrinkled the sheets as her chest rose, the curve of her breasts displacing the bedlinen. Her shirt had pressed into her bra in a way it was never meant to, exposing a lacy pattern against the cotton. It looked like maybe a floral pattern? He could imagine how they sat in the bra. Because he knew their exact shape, their perky swells and tight nipples, from when she wore backless tops and dresses during the summer. They were just in his periphery, yet took up all his vision. 

His thickening cock twitched against his wrist, and _oh fuck_. 

Jackknifing up, Ben was rolling away as he heard Sands whisper, _“Oh my god.”_

She had seen.

She had definitely seen. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he half-yelled as he sat on the floor, covering himself in the blanket, completely unable to control his volume. “Um. Goodnight.”

Huddled on the floor, facing away from her, his dick got even harder out of spite. Unbelievably, he found himself on the brink of tears for the first time in years. She was going to report him to HR, he was going to be fired as a sex pest, she was going to take him to court for emotional damages, it was going to follow him forever and he would never find another job….

Faintly he could hear Dr. Kanata reminding him to breathe, to be mindful of his thoughts. _Fuck you,_ his mind fired back. None of that meant anything right now. Not when he had fucked up this bad. There was no coming back from this. Skywalker Law met Solo Luck and everything had gone nuclear. _Why the_ fuck _can’t the Caldera blow?_

Grinding his teeth, he started counting prime numbers. It was something he had always found reassuring. A way to hide inside math. In the maelstrom that had become his mind, he barely registered Sands turning out the lights and saying, “Goodnight.”

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, he regretted the shit out of all his choices. It was painful, stretching out, trying to undo all the damage the floor had done in the past nine hours. Painful and impossible. His shoulders were not budging. Moving up to his hands and knees, he sat back in child’s pose, trying to crack his hip. With a satisfying _clunk_ , things mostly realigned. 

But his shoulders were still a lost cause. Flexing his hips, his morning wood strained in his pants, making him moan.

“Whassat?” a half-awake voice asked from the bed.

Snapping up, Ben found Rey squinting at him from the bed, hands in her ruffled hair. 

“Nothing,” he croaked. For a moment he was a deer caught in headlights. Even though he _knew_ there was no way she could see his erection from her vantage point, he was certain she could see through him. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed his toiletries bag, holding it awkwardly as he half-ran to the bathroom.

Shutting the door, he winced down at his dick. Why was it so dead set on ruining him? Wasn’t last night _enough_?

Taking out his toothbrush with a sigh, he started his morning routine, waiting for his stupid cock to go down. Glaring at it as he brushed, he tried to strategize how to comport himself like a fucking adult in front of Rey, instead of a randy teenager.

Two soft knocks came from the door. 

Horrified, he turned into himself, both hands going to cover his dick, leaving the toothbrush dangling out of his mouth. “Gimme a minute,” he yelped, staring into the mirror in terror. What the hell was he going to do? Of course in all the anxiety, his dick was only getting spitefully harder. Just hearing her voice was _so_ much. 

The door opened without any warning, Rey standing there, scowling at him.

“I…” 

Words failed him. 

He had no defense for himself or his stupid dick or any of it. Unable to look her in the eye, his head drooped in defeat, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. His body uncurled but hunched in shame, the toothbrush still hanging from his mouth.

In the mirror he could see his expression was frozen in a flinch. As if waiting for her to say something. To scream at him for sexual harassment, to tell him he was definitely getting fired, to call him a pathetic weasel of a man. Something. Anything. But the silence stretched on and on, growing tauter by the second.

Because she was just _staring_ at him, big, weird, and humiliated. And it only made his cock harder. The shame was boiling in the heat of his body, making him burn hotter. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, leaving him breathless.

When she stepped behind him, Ben didn’t know what to expect. She disappeared entirely behind his wide back, no hint in the mirror of two people. Until her hands found his waistband, following the elastic around to his front. Staring down at her tiny fingers unlacing his pajamas, Ben bit into his toothbrush, scarcely able to breathe as she hooked into his pants and boxer briefs and pulled down.

His cock bounced up with a soft _thwap_ against his stomach. With a hard swallow, he tried to turn and face her.

“No.”

Ben immediately stopped, breathing hard. Fear skittered down his spine — what if he had ruined whatever was happening here?

Again she let the moment stretch on, edging him with his own shame. He could feel her eyes on him, judging him, and _fuck_ if it didn’t make him twitch and pant.

He felt her nails first, the soft brush of them against the waistband imprints around his body. Following the tight etching in his skin, her fingers met around the front of him, before trailing from his navel to his base. But she wasn’t touching him where he needed it, hands dancing away before ever connecting with his erection. A small whine escaped him.

The hands paused. Then one drew her tight to him, splayed across the bottom of his abdomen. He could feel the heat of her breath on his back as she held him closer. A shiver ran down Ben’s spine to where he could feel Rey behind him, firm and soft all at once. Her other hand was rising next to his cock, as if studying its length. There was the ghost of skin against his and then her palm wrapped around his crown.

_“Fuck!”_

It was barely a whisper but loud as hell. 

Her hand twisted as she stroked down, her fingers not quite able to meet around him. Bowing back, he strained into her grip. Behind him, he could swear he could hear a soft chuckle, her other hand now descending on his groin.

But she didn’t wrap it around his base. Watching her hand move on, Ben felt a pitiable noise echo in his throat. One that turned into a hungry groan as he felt her fingers massaging his sac.

 _“_ Rey, _shit_ , Rey —”

She was still only working the tip of his cock but it didn’t matter, his muscles were seizing as fire and lightning raced through them. “I’m gonna — _Rey—!_ ”

His body humped helplessly in her grip, unable to handle all the pleasure crushing through him. With a harsh grunt, he erupted in her hand, come smothering her palm as she kept pumping the crown of him. His hips jerked over and over, burning against a grating surface, unleashing more than he had in ages.

Wincing at the pain on his back, Ben finally opened his eyes where he lay on the dark floor.

A light clicked on above him. “Ben?” a nervous voice whispered.

Agonizing comprehension hit him like a truck. He’d had a wet dream. About his coworker. In the same room as her. Like a sick, perverted teenager. Ben knew he talked in his sleep, said whatever he did in the dream. He always had, ever since he was little with nightmares, and he had been saying her name in the dream over and over, and oh fuck he was so dead.

He was so, so dead.


	2. she's a dominatrix supermodel beauty queen

“Are you — are you alright?”

Her voice sounded cautious, like she was trying to keep an axe murderer calm. Another sucker punch to his pride. On top of all the rest. “I’m sorry, I’m — I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket up to hold tight around his waist as he sat up. “I never — it doesn’t matter, I’m so sorry.” Now he had said it, he was struggling to stop, eyes fixed on the carpet. “I never — this is so — I am just _so sorry_.”

“Ben?” Somehow it sounded like a question. Like she wasn’t sure. Was he that monstrous? 

_Obviously._

“Ben, please look at me.”

Face twisting and shoulders hunching, he was petulant and defiant and ashamed all at once as he turned to her.

She was sitting up on her elbows, braless under her tank, her hair loose. Simple but elegant. A vision, really. He opened his mouth to apologize, but —

“ _Do not_ say sorry again, or I swear, I will scream.” 

Like a child being scolded, he shut his mouth immediately, flush deepening.

“Did you just dream about me?” 

Eyes blazing in humiliation as they bore into hers, he nodded once. 

“Did you come?” Sands sounded it like it was business. Impersonal. 

The hand over his groin gripped the blanket tighter over his stained sweatpants. He nodded again. It hurt more than he expected to give the confession. It made it all real. There was nothing and nowhere left to hide. He was pathetic and weak and such a fucking pervert.

“Was that the _first_ time?”

He hated how she dragged that word out. As if it was occurring to her as she spoke that this might not have been a one-off. Because it definitely wasn’t. 

She didn’t need his answer. It was all over his face. 

“Huh.” 

Sneaking a look up at her, he saw she was watching him as if calculating some great math puzzle or playing chess against him; Ben couldn’t help feeling like a trap was descending around him. For all he knew, maybe it was.

Prickling in the silence and under her inscrutable gaze, he stood, still holding the blanket tight. “I’ll leave now. I’ll sleep in the rental car. I—”

“Get in the bed.”

“—beg your pardon?”

Fuck, he felt ridiculous. He hadn’t used that bizarrely polite phrase since he rebelled against his mother’s constant diplomatic dinners at age nine.

“Get in the bed, Solo.”

He looked down at his hand over his cock and balls. The longer he went without soaking his clothes, the more stained they would be. He reeked of come. He was literally filthy. There was no way she wanted him in that bed.

“Ben, fucking do as you’re told.”

His head jerked up, glaring at her. “Stop ordering me around.” 

A frowned creased her brow and she sat up properly, studying him. “Do you want to go sleep in the rental car, or do you want to actually deal with this?”

 _Rental car. Hands down._

“Rey, I’m having the worst night of my life.” It came out almost pleading, like he was begging her to let him leave. “You don’t need to be nice. You don’t deserve this. Besides, you hate me, why wou—”

“I don’t,” she interrupted, her face still impassive. “I don’t hate you.” 

Breath catching in his throat, Ben froze in shock.

“Now will you please sit in the bed?”

He blinked at her, feeling as if she unplugged his brain and now it was trying to reboot. Because nothing added up to him. None of it made sense. She should be laughing. Or screaming. Not moving to sit up against the headboard, preparing to have a meeting with him. In a bed. 

Still holding the blanket around himself, he sat on the edge, bewildered.

Sitting cross-legged in her shorts and tank top, her hand holding her chin, she studied him curiously before saying, “So I thought _you_ hated _me_.”

“I — I don’t.” For such a small sentence, it was hard to say. Even when she admitted it first.

“But we always fight,” she countered, not pointedly, but almost as if playing devil’s advocate. “Or…” He flinched, recognizing the voice wind-up and hand gestures that came with _that_ tone “...you run off to your little mole creature developer den, to avoid fighting.”

Even with the insult telegraphed, it still hurt. His hands balled into fists in the covers, his jaw jutted out. “Well, what do _you_ expect?”

“What does _that_ mean?” Her arms came up to her chest, folding defensively as she cocked her head.

“I mean _you_ ,” he burst out. “You always talk like _that._ Belittling and shit. And I can never tell if you’re teasing or if you’re — you’re putting me down.” 

Fuck, it sounded _so_ childish. Like a schoolboy whining about hurt feelings.

Sneaking a look up at her, he saw she was stunned. Her face was frozen as she exhaled a tiny “ _oh_.” She no longer looked like she was working on a problem, instead she looked like she wanted to run out of the exam.

“It’s nothing, never m—”

“It’s _not_ nothing,” she barked at him, surprising him with her zeal. “If I’ve been making you feel small all this time, if I’m being _mean_ ,” she said it like she was shocked the word was still in her vocabulary, “it’s a _serious_ problem.” She bit into her thumbnail, eyebrows knitted at him, before she dropped it with a heavy sigh. 

“I didn’t know — I didn’t realize that’s how I was coming off. But that’s not how I want to treat you.”

There were too many emotions swirling through him to keep any order. There was such relief in him that it practically poured out of him. She hadn’t been trying to be hurtful, she hadn’t been mocking him the entire time. But something deep, raw, and now forcibly unburied in him felt dejected. All of which were practically drowned out in his almost squirmy discomfort at pointing out something she now felt bad about. Maybe even guilty, by the look of her. 

He had gone and made her feel bad about herself. Truly the best way he could have played his hand. Was it even possible to be a bigger asshole tonight? It all stewed inside him, leaving him trapped in his shame.

She cleared her throat, and he looked up, realizing she had been watching him. Giving him a look that felt braver than she sounded, she ventured, “But you seem to —” 

Shaking her head, she rubbed her forehead, before finishing confidently, “You like me.”

Her rephrasing from possibility to fact made perfect sense. Given the night she was having, the evidence was not in question. His come-soaked clothes were a testimony to that. He wanted to look away, but somehow he couldn’t, like her gaze gripped his. 

This he would own to, the very least he could do was accept responsibility. With a serrated breath, he nodded.

He could feel her deciding something as she looked at him and he knew the exact moment her mind was made up. It was just before she pulled back the covers to move closer to him. It felt surreal. His eyes warned her not to, that he wasn’t comfortable, and instinctively he moved back, afraid she wouldn’t want to get too close to him.

She paused, kneeling not even a foot away. “I — I like you too, Ben.”

His heart stopped at her words, eyes going to hers.

“Despite all the fights.” She was offering him a cautious half-smile. “And you jizzing in your pants,” she added. 

It barely took a second for her face to disintegrate into horror, suddenly exclaiming, “I meant that—”

“—as a joke,” he finished, understanding. 

Smiling at him, Rey nodded. “Right, like the song,” she agreed, before returning to fidgeting. He frowned, wanting to know more, but her posture was changing. Shoulders falling, grin disappearing, as something new and vulnerable took over. Something about how she was eating her hangnails kept them lingering in the moment. He watched her, his expression flickering with differing kinds of concern. He felt he ought to say something, to try and help her, but he was coming up empty.

“I don’t have any segue for this,” she said finally, sighing in some sort of defeat. “Growing up, I always had to make the best of a bad situation. And show I was the toughest. Taking the piss is my coping mechanism.” Pulling her knees up, she rested her elbows on them, pushing her hair back. “Humor like that, it can be a way to control things when everything’s out of control. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” 

“It’s alright, I was always...sensitive.” That was how it was explained to him. An over-reactive, easily insulted, sensitive little boy. He felt like he should apologize for it. Only knowing she would shout at him for it kept it back. “I’m not good at confrontation, or standing up for things.” Pursing his lips, he realized that wasn’t exactly true. There were people he would go to the mattress for: his family, Poe — though he had never had to tell them that. Poe knew because Ben had taken on homophobes since elementary school for him, and it was just unspoken in his family. “I _can_ be when I’m standing up for someone else, but for myself….” He shrugged.

She looked thoughtful, appraising. “I can see that. You seem like you’d be a loyal friend, Ben.”

It was the highest compliment Ben had ever received. The first that ever really touched him, or felt credible in any way. A compliment that felt nothing like flattery. Because he was loyal, and he was proud of that, and that she could see it meant everything.

It also made him flush so hard in embarrassment because had no idea what he could say that would be as monumental. He started several sentences that never went anywhere, before finally settling on, “You, too.” Because she did. He bet Rey could cut anyone down to size for her friends. Still, he wished he had something bigger to say, which left them on a high, earnest note of conversation. It was wringing him inside and out, making him grip the blanket as he fought the moment. The unspoken pull that was keeping them together in the bed was twisting too tight. 

Of course, it was Rey who rescued them. Who found just the right way to put it all together. Her face had gone innocent, telling him she was teasing. “Is it...do you think, maybe, it’s possible, that you like me a _little_ mean?”

The mix of madonna and vixen had his cock twitching under his hand. “M-maybe,” he breathed.

He couldn’t pretend that he had not been attracted to her when all he felt was belittled. Something about her taking his shame under her control… it intoxicated him. Her eyes were reading him, he could feel all his weird baggage prickling as she examined it. “Then what are you wearing clothes for, Solo?” 

She had found _that_ tone, the one that kept him wrapped around her finger.

As his hands ripped his shirt off, Ben’s eyes locked on hers. She was letting out a low, hungry breath, taking in the width of him — his broad muscles and rippled abdomen. The gymrat in him preened. “After I shot up a foot in middle school, I needed something to even me out,” he said, as if it were an explanation about why he still did it.

“Jesus Christ,” Rey muttered, finally looking back at his face. There was something almost reverent under all those layers of bravado. Licking her lips, she slipped into the mocking tone again, asking, “Solo, what the hell am I going to do with a pajamaed dick?”

The way the word flicked off her tongue, like she was preying on him, daring him to expose himself to her. Ben stood, the blanket falling as he took his pants off and planted his feet wide. Giddy fear rushed through him as stood back up, feeling her assessing him. This was him. All of him. 

Her eyes had widened and darkened somehow. “Ben — fuck, last night you were only at _half-mast_?” 

Ears going red with smug pride and embarrassment at the reminder, he gave her a half-smile and shrug. There was some satisfaction in making her drop the facade and say his name. And that she never closed her mouth after she finished speaking, just gaping at his erection.

Moving onto her hands, she planted her knees behind her. She was so lean under her clothes, her form firm and strong. Part of him had always seen her as some kind of statue — a stone Galatea for him to profess to. But all vanished from his mind as she crawled toward him on the bed.

Rey on her hands and knees, moving on him like a hunter. His breaths deepened, eyes blowing wide with desire. She came level with his cock, so close her he could feel her warm exhales. Starting at the base of his sac, she slowly studied the length of him, taking in every sloppy detail. “You’re a mess, Solo,” she murmured. “So _filthy_.” 

She wasn’t wrong, he was sticky from coming earlier.

Looking up at him, she smirked. “You’re lucky I like filthy.” Her hands came up to his hips and heat swelled in him as she laved her way around his belly, drinking in whatever she found. Ben’s head fell backwards as she swirled around the head of his cock.

As her tongue licked up his underside, he started to groan but cut himself off, not wanting to miss a single sound Rey made. “Lucky I’m not a good girl.” He could hear her smirking in her voice.

The soft, hot press of her tongue moved just under his sac, and his eyes snapped to her, watching as she gently suckled each of his balls in turn. His hands flexed then turned to fists, nails digging into his palms to keep silent as she gave one last wicked grin, saying, “Lucky I’m just as filthy as you.” And then she took him in her mouth.

If the dream had felt good, it was nothing compared to now. Teeth clenched in a wave of arduous hunger, he rumbled in his chest, unable to stay silent any longer when she cleaned him so fervently.

Moving back on her heels, Rey grabbed up at him. “Fucking get down here.”

Practically falling over himself, Ben bent to kiss her, his lips colliding with hers. Her hands snaked up behind his neck, into his hair, pulling him with her towards the bed as she moved. Never breaking the kiss, Ben followed her lead, coming to cage her in the middle of the bed. 

Without warning, she pulled back. “Do you have a condom?” Her eyes were wide with concern.

His world went sideways.

Because “No.”

 _Never_. 

He couldn’t believe it. _This_ close. _This close._ A pathetic pit of longing deep in his chest ached. He had almost had it all with Rey Sands, and of course the universe was laughing at him. “I-I didn’t think to pack them.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but still he felt so guilty. “I’m—”

“Do not say _sorry,_ ” she warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

Her command pissed him off. Was he not allowed to express himself? Grumbling, “Well, I _am_ ,” he rolled his eyes at her. “If I _had_ condoms…”

Looking down at Rey, he couldn’t finish his sentence. She was shaking her head, her shoulders trembling as she held her mirth in. Her eyes had been avoiding his but then he caught hers and the giggles bubbled out of her as she reached up and stroked his hair. 

There was no humiliation and anger sweeping through him. A little embarrassment, but it felt almost kind? Sheepish, really. A little silly, even. It didn’t hurt to have her laughing like this. It was startlingly intimate, like an old routine. Like this was the fiftieth time they were having the same fight, neither really minding it at all.

 _Rey Sands…_ not only did she know him well enough to predict him, but she wasn’t bothered by his pitfalls. Like they were not flaws or fuck-ups. Like she liked them.

Coming down he kissed her again, this time with his tongue begging entrance. Moaning into his mouth, Rey opened to him, her hands coming to cup his face as they moved against each other.

“Fuck —” she mumbled, her eyes welled with fierce annoyance at the situation. “No — we can’t.” Then she paused, turning to look up at him, biting her lip. “Well, I mean, we _could_.”

He shook his head at her, not catching her meaning. 

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean. When’s the last time you were tested?”

 _Oh no._ He did not want to discuss this. An explanation would be needed and he was not prepared at all —

“Hey.” Rey had come up on her elbows, head cocked at him. “I can see you overthinking again. What is it?”

He hated how easily she was seeing through him. The color his face and ears had gone was probably not found in nature. “I’m not — I’ve never been tested,” he muttered, looking just past her rather than at her.

He could practically _hear_ it dawning on her, her muscles tensing, edging away. His eyes flicked to hers, her face still just a kiss away from his, finding she was waiting for him.

“You’re a virgin.” 

Her tone was detached. She was stating it as it was — a fact.

He nodded once. A wave of shame was turning into a swell, despite her apparent neutrality. No one wanted to fuck an old virgin. He had no experience to offer her, no guarantee of anything so basic as an orgasm. This was a massive mistake. 

Her eyebrows frowned at him, as if sensing the change in his tides. Slowly she brought her hands up, reaching around his shoulders as she pulled him in a hug. “That’s fine, Ben.” Her fingers stroked through his hair as she drew him closer to her. “Honest. It’s a good thing.”

The touch was so unexpected, so alien, Ben shook his head away, drawing back with a self-deprecating huff. “Rey, come on, you don’t have to be so —”

“Hey,” she rasped gently, taking his face in her palm, thumb rubbing gently into his cheekbone, “it means we can still have _sex_ , Ben. It’s _good_.”

Her kindness sliced through his tension. She was being so sincere, and his anxiety had nowhere else to hide when she was being so nice to him, coming out in a thick chuckle.

Laughing with him, she pressed soft kisses to his cheeks. “Ben, let me up.”

As he rolled next to her, she came up to her knees, taking off her boxers. Throwing them across the room carelessly, she lay next to him. “I need help getting ready for —” her eyes went down to where his dick was rapidly hardening again “— _all that_. I need your fingers.”

Eager to please, Ben kissed her again, trying to pour all his gratitude for her direction and passion for her body into it. She groaned, returning the intensity as she slung a leg over him. “Where did a virgin learn to kiss like that?” she murmured. “Nice boys don’t kiss like that.”

Ben smirked, kissing down her neck. He had certainly _wanted_ to lose his virginity, he had just always struggled with the execution. “I never said I was _nice_ ,” he pointed out.

He felt her laughter through her throat as he sucked her pulse-point. Through a giggling whine, she managed, “N-no, you didn’t, Solo.” His hands roved over her body, mapping her mountains and valleys. Her hips were sharp but her ass was every bit as juicy as he had imagined. Groaning into her jaw, he came back to kiss her as his hand ran up the thigh she rested on him. She was so muscled and powerful, he had never realized. _Must really be committed to yoga_ , he thought dazedly, as his hand came up under her knee. Gripping tightly, he hitched her closer, a his groan echoed in his throat, reverberating into a growl.

His primal sound startled Rey, making her pull away. As Ben opened his eyes, he found her staring heatedly at him for a heartbeat before she wrapped her body around him, almost whimpering as she kissed him again. Drawing her close, his hand slipped down her body, his middle finger tracing her seam lightly. She was already so wet.

Something clicked in his mind then. She was here, attracted to _him_ , wanting _him_. That things like the way he kissed her and the broken noises she pried from him, turned her on. His mind scurried to take notes of all the little details, facts he needed to preserve. He was her student, crystallizing each piece of precious knowledge for immortalization.

Clinging to his shoulders, Rey groaned as he circled her clit with her own juices. He was struggling not to groan himself, just watching her take her pleasure on something as small as the pad of his finger. 

Moving back to her center, he drew tight circles around the outside, curious to her reaction. A smile playing on her lips, the leg over his started rolling with her hips, her breath hitching as he slipped between her folds. With no idea of what to expect in terms of resistance and room, Ben stopped at his first knuckle, for fear of hurting her with his absurdly large hands. Wiggling against him, she slid slightly farther down, whining, “ _More,_ ” as her leg curled behind him.

Taking her order, he let his finger push through her plush cunt. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered, staring down between them, watching her absorb his finger up to his palm. “Rey, I —”

“ _More,_ ” she whined again, “Ben, please — _shit —”_

He could feel her clenching around his finger, as if her cunt was begging his hand as much as her mouth. Letting his index finger join, she groaned, her hips changing the angle against his hand. Now she was grinding down, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Fuck — Ben, you have no idea — I have thought about those hands _so much_ — _yes!”_

Taken aback, his head jerked away, shocked. “You — you thought about me?”

Glaring as she opened her eyes, she bucked against him. “ _Solo._ ” Her voice was an annoyed plea. His surname had never sounded so fucking good before. 

Immediately his fingers resumed, making her groan as she smiled, looking down at him. “Yeah, Solo, I have had the _worst_ c-crush on you.” She pulled him closer to her, speech turning incoherent as she stayed in the crook of his neck, until: “Hook your finge _-ahs!”_

As he obeyed her command, he felt her tightening in a way she hadn’t before. “C-clit,” she begged, fingers grasping at his shoulders. Using his thumb, he swirled her nub lightly as she worked against his digits. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shi—” she was babbling, “Solo — _oh_ —”

Her orgasm was quieter than the build up, suddenly turning private as she met his eyes and her cunt fluttered around him. Panting desperately, she held onto his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. And then she was kissing him, letting him take her orgasm inside himself. It was beyond beauty or grace, he had no words for it. All he had was a sense of blessing. He had never brought anyone pleasure like that before, it was transcendental. 

She kept thrusting against his fingers, so he held her, letting her take what she needed. As her breathing slowed, so did her rhythm, her afterglow dewing them both.

Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, Ben watched her, waiting to see what she wanted. Her lips ticked upward, a haphazard smile as she threaded her fingers through his hair. “So I definitely have a crush on you,” she murmured.

A strange giggle bubbled up in his chest, making him wince at how awkward he was. “But I’m so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s _cute_ ,” she told him, flicking his nose gently. 

Pulling a face, he shook his head doubtfully. “No one’s called me that since I was two.” All elbows and knees and ears, he was not a camera-friendly person. In fact, thinking of his baby pictures, “Or ever….”

Moving to sit astride him, Rey declared, “Well, _they’re_ idiots.” The way she positioned herself, her wet core was settled over his cock, and Ben found himself agreeing with her. His hands went instinctively to her thighs as she hissed, sliding along his length. When he could feel her clit rubbing the tip of his cock, she leaned over him to curl her fingers in his hair. “Because I’m the one here, about to take your virginity.” 

Smirking, she licked his ears, grinding herself down on him as she moaned, “I’m not sure two was enough…” She reached behind her, lining them up as their eyes met. “Only one way to find out,” she told him with a roguish smile, enjoying the innocence plain on his face. “Ben Solo, from the bottom of my filthy heart, can I please punch your v-card?”

Looking up at her, his solemn face cracked open into a laugh. A big, relieved laugh. Unable to explain himself, he pulled her down to him, kissing her deeply. He felt her knees start to flex, her body arranging itself and then plush walls were enveloping his crown. The hands in her hair went tight, as he strained not to jerk up into her. But instead of the pain he was expecting to hear, Rey moaned, sinking deeper. 

Holding Ben like an anchor, she let gravity and breathing open her body for him. All he could do was kiss her through it, trapped in the sensations of her wet, silken walls reshaping her cunt to his cock.

As her ass settled over his sac, Ben’s breathing strained. _Fuck_. He could come from just this. Which was not ideal. He wanted it all to be so perfect for her, where he could ignore his own body and just pleasure hers. As his chest heaved, Rey came down to hold his face, catching him in his thought spiral. With a soft smile, she just shook her head, then kissed his lips. 

“You feel —”

“—incredible.”

She bit her smiling lip, tipping forward, creating a slow drag of her body up his cock. He could swear he was vibrating out of his skin, about to fly apart. Gripping her thighs tight, Ben shook his head. He couldn’t take it, he knew he would come too soon.

Rey nodded, eyes watching him as a hand came to stroke his face. She just seemed to _know_. Her hips changed, grinding against him. The way she moved and moaned, she clearly was deriving some pleasure from it. But Ben wanted more than that for her. Reaching up to her, Rey’s moans became much more throaty and needy as he thumbed over her clit.

She brought his free hand to her tank, “I don’t need this,” she prompted, “do I, Solo?”

Grunting as she took it off, Ben pushed up so he could finally admire those delicious little tits he dreamt about so often. His hand came to knead her breast, thumb flicking over her hardened nipple. She bit her lip as she moaned. “Ben — _fuck_ — I’m so s- _sensitive_.”

Smirking, he took her nipple into his mouth, working it firmly between his lips before scraping his teeth over the little nub. She arched into him, her grinding returning to pumping as she let him push the boundaries of her pleasure.

Now he wasn’t entirely on the edge of coming, Ben followed Rey’s lead, thrusting back. “You — you _fucker_ ,” she whined halfheartedly, losing her bite as it turned to a giggle at her own joke.

Every little snicker and laugh tensed her cunt around him and _fuck_ if it wasn’t his favorite fact so far. “That’s right, I’m a real fucker,” he returned, bouncing up harder.

She laughed, nodding, as they moved together. Though her huffs sounded more like bleats, a note away from begging as she was overwhelmed with pleasure. Hanging her head as she took his hammering, she gripped the headboard with white knuckles, crying out frantically. Which was what really did him in.

“Rey — I’m sorry —”

“I swear, if you come and _apologize—!”_

Ben whined, struggling to hold it back. Her hand stole between them, hips rocking harder against him.

“I can’t — much longer —”

“Go ahead, Ben,” she growled, coming down to hold his face. “Fucking come in me.”

The way she phrased it had Ben shooting loudly, thrusting as deep as he could as he exploded. As his cock twitched desperately, he watched her pinching and rolling her clit until her cunt gripped him in a tight, rippling orgasm of her own. “ _Ben!_ ” she cried before falling forward into his shoulder.

Coming back to himself, realizing this had really happened, Ben’s arms wrapped around her tight, kissing her hair. _Holy shit, Rey Sands._

It was quiet for a moment, but he didn’t feel the usual demand to fill the silence. Instead they both traced their fingers over each other, quietly listening to the other’s heart. “If you don’t ask for my number, I’m gonna be pissed,” she mumbled into his neck.

Holding her tight, he huffed, shaking his head. “Can we go steady?”

She sat up enough to look at him, giving him an assessing grin, then nodded. “Yeah, you can pin me in your letterman jacket after school.”

Full-on belly laughing, Ben curled around her, shocked at all the good happening here. “Aw shucks, I’ll be so cold this winter,” he fake-complained, because it was easier to go with the joke than to over-analyze.

“That’s the price you pay,” she retorted, kissing his nose. “Graduating from _Palm_ dale High.”

It took a moment for the joke to click and then he was laughing all the harder. They had a rapport, a banter. As they both settled down, their eyes connected and he was saying exactly what he was thinking. “You’re amazing, Rey."

She blushed, ducking her head. “I’m alright,” she admitted self-deprecatingly. He could hear the emotional management she was flexing over her words, the same way he did when he recited them to his mother.

His hands came up to her face, his palm able to cradle her whole cheek. “You are _amazing_ , Rey Sands. I’m sor—”

 _“No!”_ she shouted jokingly, her fingers coming up to his lips.

“—ry I didn’t see it sooner.”

Her mouth dropped open as her face changed into something much more serious. The fingers over his mouth slipped away. It was heartbreakingly clear, for all her experience, no one had ever said anything like it to her before. “You are, too,” she whispered, eyes glassy. “And I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner either.”

He wrestled with the compliment. Having insisted she receive them graciously, he had to swallow down his own self-deprecation. His low self-esteem. It was uncomfortable and difficult, but he was not about to be a hypocrite. His stubbornness pushed him into accepting it. With a smile, he ran his fingers through her hair, bringing her down to rest on his chest.

They lay there, easy in the silence, lazily letting the moments slip by. Their fingers twined in each others’ hair, their limbs wrapped up in one another. After such a roller coaster ride, it was a relief to find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to anyone who isn't a millennial. yes. those chapter titles are real lyrics. but wet ass pussy is really what pushed culture too far.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone please rise for the [national anthem.](https://youtu.be/u7RPvOOjCvE)


End file.
